Scarlet Light
by GrimGrave
Summary: Brigitte Abbendis, leader of the Scarlet Crusade, is a woman of the Holy Light; in her blinding radiance, she hides many secrets...But the life of a Scarlet Crusader is far from joyous, with the threat of the Scourge looming all around her. A short series featuring the lead ladies of the Scarlet Crusade, rated M for adult themes and situations, NotSafeForWork or children.


**Disclaimer:** World of Warcraft and all characters belong to Blizzard Entertainment. GrimGrave owns nothing and doesn't make money out of writing fiction.

 _ **Scarlet Light**_

 _ **Chapter 1: (Im)Pure**_

 _Tyr's Hand_ : once a simple port city located in the east of Darrowmere Forest, the city would eventually grow and become a bastion of security and trade centre between the humans of Lordaeron and the High Elves of Quel'thalas.

It was a fortified stronghold and, despite being the victim to a revolt and later put to the torch in the Second War, Tyr's Hand is a testament to the humans' steadfast will and perseverance.

Now it is one of the last bulwarks in a land of death and decay.

Due to the undead Scourge's assault many years ago, the land became a shadow of its former glory. Darrowmere Forest became the _Eastern Plagueland_ ; an area with corrupted trees, sickly soil, and polluted air. The water is tainted and coloured a sickly green, and the wildlife was transformed into hideous mutated monsters.

 _Ugly. Impure._ Those were the words that always came to mind whenever Brigitte Abbendis stared out of her bedroom window.

But all was not lost; Tyr's Hand, now the headquarters for the Scarlet Crusade – a religious order dedicated to the eradication of the undead from Lordaeron – remained untouched by the Scourge's taint. Within the city's white walls, the grass was still green. The water was fresh. And, more importantly, humanity lived on.

They were safe.

Abbendis's grimace faded as she tore her gaze away from the disgusting borders and looked down at the centre of the town. Her troops were in the middle of their morning training, all lined up before one of the lesser captains. Rows upon rows of men and women – humans faithful to the Holy Light – clad in the scarlet armour and armaments that reflected their army's name, and the tabard of the Scarlet Flame adorning their chests.

Brigitte was pleased. Despite hating the world outside of Tyr's Hand, it was in the Eastern Plaguelands that the Scourge's presence was the thickest; if they could drive the undead out of this area, the rest would be easy.

Brigitte Abbendis, High General of the Scarlet Crusade, daughter of the former High General, and co-founder of the Crusade, was a young, beautiful woman. With auburn hair tied up into a bun and smooth milky white skin, she was the object of many men's affections and the envy and adoration for women. Her beauty was rivalled only by her strength and conviction in the Holy Light.

After her father's death at the hands of the Scourge, she took up the mantle of leadership and continued with his – and hers, and everyone's – dream of pushing the undead out of their lands.

Her dream **would** be realized. The Light was with her. Lordaeron would be pure again, but it required a lot of planning and preparations – preparations that were still in process. With each day that passed, the undead ranks were bolstered anytime one of her warriors fell in battle and, as such, she couldn't rush an attack. The Crusade needed to strike with precision and at the right moment in order to keep their losses low.

Despite being deeply locked in thoughts, the stout leader heard the slight groaning of her chamber door being opened, accompanied by footsteps. She didn't turn around. "State your business, soldier."

"It's me, High General," the guest replied and Abbendis immediately turned on her heel. Across the room stood a young woman with shoulder-long black hair, meeting her gaze. She was garbed in gold and crimson inquisitor-like battle-armour with an enchanted war-mace strapped onto her back. The brunette's lips curved into a smile.

"Commander Marjhan," Abbendis greeted with a polite nod. "It's good to see you've return. How did the meeting go?"

Marjhan – a paladin and Scarlet Commander of the Crusade – shook her head disapprovingly. "The Argent Dawn are nothing but impotent idealists with a delusional leader. I wish I could say that we made progress, ma'am. However, their Commander was kind enough to share some information of interest."

Brigitte crossed her arms over her chest. "Go on."

The paladin nodded. "Apparently, Scourge activity in the Plaguelands has increased ten-fold; there are even reports of undead activity as far as Kalimdor. The heathens will be forced to act."

The High General sighed. She should have known better than to think the Argent Dawn would be of any help, but there was at least some good news in knowing that the Horde had to deal with the Scourge as well. "I see. Thank you for your hard work, Commander."

"For you, Milady, I'd do anything," the raven-haired woman replied. Her expression was heart-warming. "Is there anything else you need of me before I take my leave?"

The moment the question left the Commander's lips, hazel eyes met with sky-blue, and the redhead's expression became gentler. "There is. After all…" She slowly crossed the room and studying the other woman. Marjhan bit her lower lip as she fought to maintain meeting her leader's hungry gaze. "It's been a while. First the defence of Hearthglen, then the attack on a cultist encampment, and now the meeting… It feels like we haven't seen each other in ages."

"A month or two hardly constitutes as ´ages´, ma'am," the paladin replied. She quivered as her superior got close and tenderly brushed black locks from her face. "But I'd be lying if I said that the feeling isn't mutual..."

"Come," Abbendis commanded, though her voice was devoid of any strictness. She guided the young Commander by the hand to her queen-sized bed. Their exchanged glances spoke volumes but it wasn't until they had reached the cradle that the High General pulled the other woman close, sealing their lips with a passionate kiss that set their bodies ablaze.

"I've missed you, Marjhan…"

"High General…" the brunette answered, but a metal-clad finger pressed against her lips, silencing her.

"We're off-duty now, soldier," Abbendis reminded.

"Brigitte…" Marjhan cooed, and their lips met again. Their kiss was hot, wanton. Tongues danced the oral tango in bliss.

The Scarlet Crusade's faith in the Holy Light had always helped them through times of need, and they all sought it not only for aid, but comfort. It eased their spirits and cleansed their minds of troubled thoughts. It was their greatest weapon, ally, and relief in this war-torn world and had been doing so for many years.

But not even the Light could offer this sort of comfort; this sort of relief to the constantly pent-up stress and desire. Although Marjhan – and indeed the whole Crusade – was a weapon, arrows in a large quiver, she was not a tool for the use of sexual relief. No, this was on a different level, one of consensual understanding and mutual attraction between them and few others.

For now, however, it was just the two of them.

Red and golden armour-parts fell to the floor with loud clangs until only soft cloth remained on strong, slender bodies and the women heatedly kissed again.

They fell down on the bed and Abbendis pulled away and studied her subordinate: her hair a mess, pale features were flushed hotly red and her lips, swollen from the rough kisses, parted as the dark-haired woman panted. Her simple white shirt did little to hide her ample cleavage that rose with each breath, and her cotton panties were wetted with arousal.

"Brigitte…" Marjhan uttered breathlessly. Her voice was rich with wanton need. _"Take me."_

The High General was upon her in an instant. Supple skin was licked and gently bitten while talented hands fondled malleable flesh through the clothes, and the raven-haired woman arched back and offered more of herself to her leader.

The Commander's moaning filled the chamber. Thankfully, this room was at the top of a tower; no-one would hear, and no-one would interrupt. There was nothing that held them back.

By now the shirt had been ripped open, revealing pale breasts, and an eager mouth suckled on a twin bud as a hand twisted the other, forcing a short-lived yelp from the young Commander. The brunette let out a string of coos and sighs as she gave in to her leader's touch, her sex slick with need – the need to have the redhead above her _fill_ her up…!

Slender digits pressed against damp folds and Marjhan shuddered. These past months had left her with next to no time to "relieve the stress," she was incredibly sensitive and when the General teasingly prodded her sex like this –

Brigitte bit down on a rosy nipple and pressed against her subordinates lower lips, relishing at how the brunette jitter and tremor beneath her.

-she lost control, her mind completely blank and registering only the much-needed orgasm the raven-haired woman desperately needed – nay, **craved**.

The High General chuckled. "I had a feeling you were in need of a _tender_ touch," Brigitte commented as she kissed her subordinate on the cheek. "Don't pass out on me, soldier. We're not done yet."

 **x.x.x.x.x.**

 _Day 281, year 26. It's the start of autumn, where we, as children, would see the beginning of leaves turn red and fall to the ground. The weather would be slightly colder and I was told to dress warmer. I remember those days well, but the memory is bittersweet; it only serves to remind me of days long gone in a world that has forever changed._

 _I look out the window and see trees permanently rotted with sickly red. It's cold and gloomy despite the sun sitting on its perch above and no amount of clothes and armour can keep me warm enough. All because of prince Arthas – the damned whoreson of King Terenas – who lead our land to ruin and destroyed everything we had like it was nothing._

 _I could go on about how much I despise him, but I do not intend to fill every other page with my hate. Rather, I would like to take this chance to record something positive._

 _I've received reports that the Crusade has annihilated the Scourge presence near Hearthglen. What's more, I have the honour of meeting our Grand Crusader's chief adviser, Scarlet Oracle Demetria, later. It has been many months since our last encounter, and we both have a lot of catching up to do._

 _I eagerly await her in my chambers. Her advice will surely boost the morale of my troops here at Tyr's Hand, but also foresee anything critical before it can happen. After all, she is a woman with otherworldly senses._

Setting the quill aside and closing the diary with a content sigh, the High General mused; these past few weeks would be very interesting. Marjhan had been the first of four to arrive, and with the Oracle soon arriving –

A sharp series of knocks on her chamber door earned her attention and Brigitte smiled and replied, "Enter."

As the door opened, two guards entered followed by the very woman she had yearned to meet again. With shoulder-long pale hair tied up similar to the High General and dressed in a crimson and lilac robe, Scarlet Oracle Demetria looked a stunning as Abbendis remembered. The Oracle was a calm and serene beauty, but underneath the surface was a powerful vixen.

"Leave us." The pale-haired sorceress spoke softly, yet with command. The guards left without question, and neither of the women said anything until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared. "I knew you would say that, so I took the liberty of ridding ourselves of the guards."

"I figured that much," Brigitte replied and smiled. "It's good to see you again, Demetria. It has been too long."

The Oracle nodded. "Indeed. And while we have much to discuss, I am aware that we both have…itches that needs scratching." By the Light, the way she went on about it was exciting in its own way. "May I kiss you, High General?"

"Someone is eager, I see. Not that I mind." The redhead closed the distance between them as Demetria cupper her cheek, eyes closing and lips meeting.

They stumbled over to the bed, their hair freed and clothes shed article by article, until they were almost nude. The two women hungrily kissed, desperate to make up for lost time and soon their last pieces of clothing were tossed aside, forgotten on the stone floor.

Demetria – and Marjhan and one more – had always had a dual-nature when it came to their intimacy; as much as they loved for their stoic leader to take charge, once they were like this where titles did not matter, they were more than glad to take up the mantle as dominant. Today was no exception.

Brigitte let out a throaty moan as twin buds were suckled and tweaked. The Oracle's tongue flicked at an erect nipple and her hand pulled at its twin with a zealous perversion – the kind the four of them shared as a common secret, sworn to keep to the grave – and relished at the sight of the High General squirming beneath her, silently begging for more.

"In every waking moment, my thoughts always return to these kinds of memories," Demetria whispered loud enough. "I fulfil my duties to the Grand Crusader, but I always long for when I can come back here…"

Abbendis moaned. "You and m-me both… sister." Not by blood, but through the Light.

There was no time being wasted; the pale-haired woman moved from her superior's breast and left a trail of butterfly-kisses down the redhead's exposed abdomen, teasingly past the triangle of hair and down her thighs –

"This is no time for t-teasing, Demetria!" Brigitte chastised, though her throaty voice robbed her of any command she'd otherwise instill.

Thankfully, her lover was inclined to agree. With one last kiss on the High general's inner thigh, the Oracle smiled devilishly up at leader and leant in towards a quivering quim.

"You're leaving a stain on your sheets, ma´am," Demetria commented before her tongue lapped up liquid heat while talented fingers played with the overly sensitive bundle of nerves. The strings of pleasure-induced moans were unladylike, and no-one in the whole Scarlet Crusade would have ever guessed the source for these noises was **the** High General herself.

The pale-haired woman's heart swelled with perverted pride.

Demetria obediently lapped up her superior's juices – by the Light, did she taste good – but soon her attention returned to the pair of pale, malleable mounds and instead of a tongue, Brigitte's cunny clenched around womanly fingers. The Oracle suckled on a lone bud whilst fingering her leader deep into velvet warmth.

Brigitte bucked her hips and arched into her bed, her hair now a mess. "D-Demetria…!"

This was good! …But there was something missing. She bit down on the redhead's rosy bud.

The High General moaned, her body quivering with need.

No, that wasn't quite right. She curled her fingers against wet walls just _so_ …

Abbendis shivered and moaned, clamping down on talented digits.

The pale-haired woman chuckled, her motions slowing down and earning a displeased groan from the High General. "I know you are there, Commander. Care to join us?"

Brigitte's gaze shifted to the shadows, the candlelight illuminating enough for her to see the chamber door closing behind the black-haired paladin.

Marjhan appeared flushed red. She wore only a white linen shirt and ebon hide pants, and her expression was one of guilt, yet excitement.

She bit her lower lip. "…I did not mean to intrude."

"I knew you'd show up," Demetria commented with a sly smile. "And I know you're about to engage in some very sinful behaviour, oh righteous paladin."

The brunette looked ashamed and, yet, she was clearly overjoyed. She strode towards the duo as the Oracle dutifully resumed pleasing their superior and cupped the pale-haired woman's breasts from behind.

"Oh…"

Marjhan fondled malleable mounds, occasionally playing with petite nipples to the Oracle's appreciation. The magic-user stimulated the High General's bundle of nerves, though her attention was divided between that and look over her shoulder to kiss the Commander.

"D-Demetria!" Brigitte nearly yelled. "I-I'm –!"

The chief adviser broke away from kissing the brunette and ceased touching Abbendis' breasts – a task gladly resumed by their third party – and ate out her superior's cunny with lusty zeal. Drinking in her taste and scent, Demetria couldn't stop herself.

Abbendis' heart raced uncontrollably, the pressure that built up between her creamy loins becoming unbearable. The way her Oracle's tongue lapped at her cunt was forbiddingly good, and soon –

Her eyes were wide open and with a string of whorish moans, the High General came, the climax blanketing her mind and sending powerful jolts of pleasure throughout her body. Brigitte's legs quivered and trapped the pale-blonde in-between as liquid excitement spilled forth akin to how a shameless streetwalker would show no restraint in letting her lover know she'd came.

After what felt like a small eternity, Abbendis's muscles relaxed, her mind and heart no longer racing and she laid there, tired and basking in the afterglow.

Demetria slyly smiled. "That was long overdue. Let's give her a few minutes before we p – "

Firm hands suddenly grabbed the Oracle's buttocks, giving them a squeeze and spreading them to reveal a puckered star. Marjhan giggled and kissed her lower back.

" _-p-proceeeed…!"_ the chief adviser moaned and collapsed above the redhead. As the paladin began, a reinvigorated Brigitte cradled the pale-blonde in her bosom…

 **x.x.x.x.x.**

"Purify the body with labour! Purify the soul with prayer! Purify your enemies with fire! Pain is not an enemy, but an ally to be embraced, held close, and delivered to unbeliever and believer alike! Resistance to the ways of the Light is a sign of impurity, and should be excised from the flesh of the community!"

Abbendis crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze directed towards the church. Inside stood the abbot and the priests before a good handful of crusaders who had come to today's sermon. The abbot acknowledged her but proceeded with his speech.

"Cultivate a fulsome beard, for it conceals the imperfections of the face from the Light. Purify your hands in the milk of the mare, that they be soft and supple when handling the offertory! Bathe in the rivers, allowing the glorious natural gifts of the Light to cleanse your skin. Replace regularly your holy raiment, that your appearance and odours not offend the servants of the Light. Maintain at all times an upright posture - let not fatigue nor sloth curl the spine!"

She rolled her eyes. While she wasn't disagreeing with the priesthood, Brigitte found some of the sermons to be…well, odd. Surely there were better things to talk about?

She left the church and continued towards her destination. It had been a detour, but it was for the better to walk around the city: personal inspection of soldiers and buildings, inspiring morale to the troops, and clearing the mind with some fresh air.

It had been a couple of days since the Grand Crusader's chief adviser had arrived and most of the time they spent was in Brigitte's chambers. The Oracle would occasionally hold sermons of her own, or meditate in the chapel when she wished to see into the future. The Scarlet Commander could be found in the barracks, supervising the soldiers.

She sighed. It was easy to forget the horrid world that existed outside the safety of the white walls when you were behind a closed door, frolicking with women. But as soon as she stepped outside, Brigitte wold grimace, a sickening feeling settling in her stomach at the sight of the Scourge-infested lands.

But all was not lost. Tyr's Hand was a last patch of greenery, certainly, but there was more. Behind the city was the Scarlet Lands; towns that encompassed Tyr's Hand.

Her destination.

Those villages were a safe haven for anyone who could not wield a weapon – farmers, masons, the elderly, and the children – protected by the Scarlet Crusade. One such individual, a child, awaited the redhead in the village of New Avalon.

Several residents bowed or saluted the High General as she entered the village, earning a curt nod in response. Abbendis traipsed towards the house near the centre of the town, a small smile curving her lips as she was about to knock on the door –

The wooden gate opened up and a young girl – a teenager at best – with shoulder-length auburn hair and hazel eyes beamed.

"Mother!" A child born from Brigitte and a man who were since long dead and erased from her heart, the girl leapt into the older woman's arms. "I saw you from my room! I didn't think you'd visit today!"

The High General managed a smile and patted the tyke's head. "I had time to spare, Lynnia. Let's head inside before anyone shows up, shall we?"

Only a select few knew of their leader's child. It was a secret best kept, lest the information could end up in the wrong hands and used against Brigitte. As long as the child was raised in New Avalon, away from the front lines, she'd be safe.

It was a burden that would always weight heavy on the older Abbendis' shoulders, but one she had to bear.

"So how are you, my dear? Are your studies going well?"

"Of course!" Lynnia exclaimed. "I've been doing extraordinary well, my teachers are rather surprised! And I've managed to get some weapon practice too –"

"What?" Brigitte's voice became strict. "You've had weapon practice? How? I've given specific orders to not let anyone train you."

Her daughter pouted and averted her gaze. "…I sneaked away and watched the soldiers in the barracks. Mom, why can't I join you in the fight against the undead?"

The older Abbendis' eyes narrowed. "We are not having this discussion again. I want you nowhere near the battlefield."

"But, mother –!"

"My word is final!" Brigitte shouted with her arms crossed. Her daughter flinched but didn't back down; a parental trait that was both a gift and a curse. They stood there in silence until the older woman relaxed with a sigh. "It's for your own good, my child. The world out there is a horrible place, and even my best knights can fall in the blink of an eye. I will not have my daughter marching to almost certain doom."

"But you followed grandpa to battle!" Lynnia retorted with eyes on the brink of tears. "You and everyone else risk your lives every day, why can't I do the same?! Am I weak? Is that it?"

"Weak, and no-where near suited for battle," her mother replied. The tyke was taken aback. "Listen to me, Lynnia; the Scarlet Crusade wishes for one thing; the eradication of the Scourge. Lordaeron is our home and we will stop at nothing to see it restored. All of my troops are arrows in the quiver, and they must be spent in order for us to achieve that goal."

She paused and removed her right glove, her naked hand caressing the girl's cheek. "However, if there is one thing that I won't do, it is to sacrifice my family. I want you to grow up in a world free of war and the horrors of the Scourge. That's why I have you live here, away from Tyr's Hand. If something were to happen to you… by the Light, I don't know what I would do."

"Mother…"

"Please don't view this as me denying you your right to fight. It is my wish as a mother to protect you from the nightmare I wake up to every day."

Her daughter didn't reply. Lynnia's eyes reflected her teenage defiance, but it was clear that the younger Abbendis understood her mother's intentions.

She eventually smiled. "Okay, mother…I understand. Just… Promise me that you won't do anything reckless. If I am supposed to live in a world free from those horrors, I want to do so with my mother still alive."

Brigitte chuckled. "It's a deal, my child."

 **x.x.x.x.x.**

 _Day 290, year 26. The voice whispered, "Come to me." From the very beginning I knew that it was the Holy Light speaking to me in my dreams. At last! After all of my years of prayers and good deeds, the cleansing of the blight and the unliving from the face of Azeroth. After all of the failures and resurrections._

 _Finally!_

 **x.x.x.x.x.**

 _Day 292, year 26. It is with an elated heart that I write these following paragraphs; we have managed to recruit a good number of able-bodied women and men these past few days. It's a sign from the Light – a sign that we are going to end the Scourge. The dead's numbers may grow from our fallen, but with every soldier we lose, two will take his or hers place!_

 _What's more, the High Inquisitor, Sally Whitemane, from our base in the Tirisfal Glades, will arrive today. Her holy words will inspire our soldiers and invigorate our priesthood – I hear the troops stationed at the Scarlet Monastery have become even more extreme in their battles with the undead. I'm looking forward to see what effect she will have on our army here._

 _But above all else, I am looking forward to her counsel and insight, her wisdom and grace, and her_ _ **discipline**_ _._

Abbendis watched with pride and forbidden mirth as the gates of Tyr's Hand opened up for the High Inquisitor. Like her name, the inquisitor's hair was white as snow, and her regalia crimson and ebon. The redhead often mused over how a woman such as Whitemane, one of the leaders of the Crusade's religious branch, could choose to wear such revealing attire; boots, stockings and arm-gloves, a leotard and a tabard, and silk-cloth shoulder-pads – all in the colours of scarlet, chrome, and black – did not make Sally look like a priestess, but rather a streetwalker aiming to please people with a fetish for the "naughty-nun."

Not that Abbendis minded that. Besides, the powers at the Inquisitor's command were not to be trifled with.

…The chapeau on her head was the only thing that didn't look slutty.

As Whitemane and her entourage was lead into the fort, the redheaded High General smirked to herself, her face hotly red and the junction between her legs dampening her knickers. They had much to talk about regarding the plans for the Crusade, but that was a topic saved for later.

Soon the multiple footsteps could be heard and the redhead suppressed her lewd expression. The rapid knocks against the wooden frame alerted her of her guest.

"Milady, the High Inquisitor has arrived."

"Let her in."

As the door opened and the Inquisitor – a vixenish smile upon her full, wine-red lips – stepped inside, her escorts remaining outside.

"Leave us," the redhead dismissed, and the door closed with the fading sound of footsteps following shortly after. The priestess locked the door and let her greatstaff rest against the wall.

"It has been a long time since our last meeting," Whitemane commented. "Have you been well, High General?"

"As well as I can be," Abbendis replied, a brief glance cast towards her window and beyond. "I trust you've been well, too. Your latest report made me proud."

The priestess sneered. "No unliving, be they Scourge or Forsaken, cannot ever breach the Scarlet Monastery's defences, milady."

The High General chuckled. "Good… I have a lot more to discuss with you and the others, but –"

"That's not why I'm here, after all." Burgundy eyes flashed wickedly. "Let's not beat around the bush, Brigitte; I know you had your fun with the others before me. You couldn't wait until I had arrived?"

The High General blushed and averted her gaze, though she smiled and bit her lower lip. "…I suppose I got greedy with lust – that's two sins I need to confess, High Inquisitor." She met Whitemane's eyes. "Forgive me, Mother."

"If you truly repent, then you know what to do." The pale-haired woman sauntered over to the bed, fully aware that her superior would try and get a glimpse of her shapely rear behind the tabard. She sat down, legs spread and beckoned the redhead suggestively. "Atone for your sins, my child, and be cleansed."

Brigitte was more than happy to oblige.

 _End of chapter 1._


End file.
